Just Another Saturday at Gotham Central Bank
The queue of customers was stretching back almost fully to the door. Rick Cooper concealed a sigh as he buzzed the next one over. The hour between eleven and noon on a Saturday was definitely the worst time to work as a bank clerk; the combination of late risers and citizens getting their business out of the way before a leisurely afternoon made for a stressful time. Particularly after the good time he'd had the night before.
He let the guy he was serving think the slight smile the memory brought him was just good customer service, and drifted through the transaction on autopilot as he thought back to the bar, and especially after the bar. She'd been stunning, and flexible, and he was seriously considering calling her up after his shift ended.
He pressed his buzzer again, and rolled his eyes as the next customers strolled over. Some fat cat in a pinstripe suit under an expensive looking coat, still wearing his fedora even indoors, and a heavily made up blonde chick hanging on his arm. Stay classy, Gotham. It wasn't even a good suit – who wore a purple suit outside a fancy dress party, for God's sake? Then it stuck him. Purple? It was pure instinct that had his hand wandering below his counter, scrabbling for the button that would ring a very different system to his buzzer, but by the time he'd found it, the couple had arrived at his counter. The chick pulled a face, and wagged her finger.
"Ah, ah, ah! Hands where we can see 'em, pal!"
Her partner leant in close, tipped his hat back a little to reveal more of his face. His very, very pale face, which was defined by a grin wider than should really be humanly possible.
"Good morning good sir! I'm here to make a withdrawal…"
Even though his words weren't funny, weren't funny at all, the man laughed long and hard, a high-pitched cackle that shook the man physically. Everyone around the counter turned to stare at him, and he whirled, tossing his hat and coat aside to reveal his more familiar appearance, and a large barrelled pistol that didn't quite look real.
"Hello ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to our matinee performance! This is an audience participation piece, so if you'd all just follow the directions of our stage hands, we're sure to have an absolute blast!"
The Joker trailed off into a quieter chuckle, more sinister than the previous insanity; his companion – Harley Quinn, Rick presumed – vaulted onto the counter, pulling a machine gun from her own coat and glaring down at the frozen staff. On the other side of the counter, a couple of men stepped up to the guards, clearly stopping them from attempting something foolishly heroic. Not that they would. Gotham's supervillains had an interesting knock-on effect to certain areas of employment in the city. Rick's own, for example. Given the relative frequency of costumed maniacs trying to line their own pockets, it was hard for banks to keep hold of staff for very long, and in an effort to counter this measures had been put in place. Guards were strictly instructed not to intervene in the event of costumed crime, although regular criminals were fair game. And Rick was on a very handsome salary, nearly double what he'd make in the same job in, say, Chicago. All the staff knew the score – keep quiet, do what they were told, and hope that this wasn't the day that the villain decided they wanted to up their notoriety with a body count.
The only problem was working out whether the civilians knew how to play the game. In a city with as many vigilantes as Gotham, it wasn't impossible that there would be a wannabe hero in the middle of them all. Rick prayed that wasn't the case today.
As he and his colleagues worked silently to fill up bags with cash, it seemed they were in luck. The Joker's goons were robbing the customers blind, and Rick could see several of them holding back their fury, but no-one was doing anything stupid. Joker himself was strolling around the bag, twirling his ridiculous looking gun casually around a finger, occasionally chuckling to himself, seemingly at nothing at all. After a while though, Rick decided that the Joker had his eye on someone. It took a minute to work out who that was, but he finally pinned them down. A younger man, maybe a student, clutching the desk in the middle of the lobby so hard his knuckles were almost as white as the Joker's face. He was clearly terrified, the sweat on his forehead gleaming in the bank's harsh light. He closed his eyes as the Joker stopped next to him, letting out a little sob audible from the other side of the room, such was the quiet.
"Aw kid, what's the matter? Nobody's hurt you, have they?"
"N-no…" The younger man stuttered. Rick couldn't blame him. The Joker slung an arm over his shoulder, almost friendly, were it not for the shark like grin.
"Then why you scared? Not of little old me, surely?"
The kid's eyes flickered to meet Joker's, before flicking away again quickly. Joker leant in closer.
"Am I scary, hmm?"
"You…you kill people. Sir." He added the honorific hastily, obviously hoping it might soften his other words. Joker jerked back, the grin leaving his face. He looked honestly offended.
"Moi? Kill people? Never! Well. Hardly ever. And why on earth would I want to kill you?"
The kid closed his eyes again. "I don't…I don't know."
"You're not going to try anything stupid, are you?"
"No sir!"
"Then why would I kill you?" For the first time, there wasn't a hint of laughter in the Joker's voice. He actually sounded reasonable, honestly curious.
"I don't…they say you…that you just do."
"Oh honestly," the Joker snapped. He wrapped his arm around the kid's shoulders again. "What's your name, kid?"
"Billy. Billy Robinson."
"Billy. Y'see Billy, I'm hard done by. The media gets me all wrong! They see what I do, and they say 'Maniac'. Murderer. Psychopath. Criminally insane. And a lot of that's true, but I'm not just some nutjob who goes around killing people at random – I'm an artist! All I want to do is make people laugh. That's when I kill people – when it's funny. And come on, Billy. What could possibly be funny about killing you?"
He shot Billy an encouraging look, and the younger man managed a nervous smile. "Nothing, I guess."
"Exactly! You're just a menial bystander. Completely beneath my notice. I promise you, do what you're told and you'll go home tonight with nothing more serious than some sweat stains and – " he sniffed " – maybe a new pair of pants, am I right?"
He held his hand out, open, to Billy. Rick's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to call out, but he was too late. Billy took the Joker's hand.
Nothing happened for a moment. Billy stood there, oddly still. Then he whimpered. Then he started to convulse, gently at first then ever more violently. Smoke started to rise from his hand, and the smell of something burning began to waft through the lobby. Rick closed his eyes, unable to watch as the electric current charged through the young man's body. He didn't need to see it. He could visualise it perfectly through the Joker's shrieking cackle, louder than anything he had ever heard in his life.
But not quite loud enough to drown out Billy's final wail of agony, abruptly cut off. There was a thud, and Rick opened his eyes. Billy was lying on the floor, smoke wafting up from his body. His eyes were still open, but they were blank. Lifeless. The Joker was leaning against the desk, almost weeping with laughter now.
"But…you said you weren't going to kill him. You promised," one of the remaining customers whispered. The Joker's laughter ceased instantly, and he pushed himself upright, whirling to look at his…at his audience, Rick realised.
"APRIL FOOL!"
And he started laughing again.
"Erm…Mister J?"
"What, Harley?!"
"It…It's September."
Joker sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose, weary exasperation evident. "I know that, Harley, that's the JOKE!"
"Oh!" Harley giggled a little nervously. "Gotcha, Mister J! Good one!"
"Honestly, some people just don't know jokes…" Joker muttered. There was serious displeasure in the look he threw at Harley, and she shuffled atop the counter. She was almost as scared of him as the rest of them, Rick realised, although probably mixed with something else that he didn't really want to think about. Trying to put Billy out of his head, he turned back to his bag, which was nearly full.
There was a faint crack, like a car backfiring a few blocks away. Rick looked up, curious despite himself. Glass tinkled to the floor, and Joker's goons looked up, aiming guns at something he couldn't see – before one of them was knocked to the floor by a black shape that dropped through the skylight like a stone. Before the hired thugs could re-train their weapons on it, the shape had spun away, revealing a hint of grey beneath the darkness. There was a sudden motion, and smaller shapes flew out from the black mass, and two of the thugs cursed.
One of the shapes let out a pitched whine, and there was a sudden flash of light bright enough that Rick thought he might just have looked directly at the sun. There came the sound of efficient violence, and several pained grunts before the light cleared. When Rick could see again, the black shape was nowhere to be seen, and while the thugs were still on their feet, they were notably lacking in guns.
The Joker started to laugh again, clapping his hands in something like glee.
"Oh, I do love it when he does this!"
One of the thugs reached into his jacket, his hand coming out wrapped around a vicious looking knife, but before he did anything else the black shape cannoned out from behind a desk, hitting the thug hard enough in the stomach that he doubled over. The other thugs slowly spread out in a circle around their fallen friend, as the black shape straightened. It wasn't a shape at all. It was a man, the black mass actually a cloak, over a lighter jumpsuit, with a glaring yellow and black emblem on the chest. The only hint of normality was a square jaw exposed beneath a black hood over the rest of the man's face.
Batman.
Rick's pulse raced. The situation was not necessarily better now. Accepted wisdom and training said that once the Bat arrived, you were probably safe…but there was always that chance that today would be the day he lost. And there was always the probability of being taken hostage in the Joker's attempt to escape, of course.
Still on top of the counter, Harley tossed her gun aside to land near the Joker, who scooped it up – although he didn't do anything with it. To replace it, she pulled something out of the pocket of her pants; with a flick of her wrist, it extended, expanded, until she was holding something closely resembling a baseball bat. Rick had never heard of a baseball bat that hummed though; it didn't take a genius to work out that one of the other supervillains in Gotham had cooked something up for her.
"Boys, Harley…" the Joker said, his voice dripping with dark enthusiasm, "I wanna see something funny."
The circle of thugs charged, while Harley somersaulted – somersaulted – off the counter to join the fray. Batman dodged the goons' frantic arm-waving effortlessly, lashing out at one with a closed fist that struck him in the face like a hammer. The goon crumpled to the floor without a sound, blood streaming from his nose, and his companions redoubled their efforts. Their opponent skipped away from one, who was trying to get him in a grapple, and flipped over another's head, pushing his makeshift vault into his friend as he did so.
Batman landed directly in front of Harley, who swung out with the bat, shouting something Rick couldn't understand. Batman blocked the blow, but staggered back as the hum from the bat increased in volume. It looked like there was electric current running through it. Taken off guard, one of the goons was able to grab hold of Batman, restraining him long enough for Harley to take a jab at him. The force of the blow, added to presumably another jolt of electricity, caused the vigilante to sag a little, and the Joker giggled.
"That's it! Hit him again, Harley!"
"Sure thing, puddin'!" she sang out, and hefted the bat for another blow…but something shot down from the ceiling, a thin wire that coiled around the bat. She looked up in dismay as another figure dropped through the skylight, this one clad in red and yellow, although still darker tones. Rick felt a jolt of surprise. Batman hadn't been seen with a partner in a year or so, and although he wasn't an avid follower of the costumed news pieces, there was something different about this one. A new recruit to Batman's personal war?
The younger man yanked on the wire, and Harley was pulled off her feet, slamming into one of the counters with a gasp. The new Robin tossed the bat to the other side of the lobby, then joined the fray around Batman, who had recovered himself. One of the goons split off to brawl with the new arrival, while Batman dispatched the one who had been holding him down for Harley. As his current foe sank to the floor, whimpering in pain, one of the last trio of goons grabbed at the Bat's cloak; Rick swore that the vigilante almost smiled as he just pulled at his cloak himself, sending the goon stumbling towards his waiting fist. There was a crunch as fist met throat, and Rick almost felt sorry for the criminal.
"Bats! A new Boy Blunder?!"
Rick looked over at the Joker. He was standing up straight now, his eyes wide with excitement.
"You shouldn't have! All for me? It's Christmas come early, Harley, fetch me my crowbar!"
Robin ignored the villain, concentrating on knocking his opponent into the middle of next week, but Batman glared at the Joker. If it was possible, his gaze became even more stony-faced than it already was. The last standing goon ran at him, but Batman didn't even look at him, just kicking out; he was knocked back, tumbling over to land near Robin, who promptly clubbed him in the face to put him out for the count. Meanwhile, Batman was stalking towards Joker, who was now convulsed with laughter, apparently at some private joke. As the vigilante got close, the Joker suddenly stopped laughing, reaching to a flower on his jacket lapel. Something gushed out, and Batman whirled his cloak in front of his face. The cloak sizzled where the liquid touched it, and Batman tossed it aside, his fist flying towards the Joker's face. There was a crunch, and Joker staggered back, more red spattered over his face than was normal even for him.
He giggled again, a shrill sound, and threw his own clumsy blow at his nemesis. Batman dodged with ease, grabbed Joker's arm and twisted. Instead of screaming, or even just gasping in pain, the Joker just smiled.
"Oh Bats, I really felt that one! Do it again…"
With a sudden viciousness he jerked his head forward, slamming into Batman's face. Batman released him, grunting in pain, but he didn't fall back. He ducked beneath the Joker's follow up blow, and grabbed his jacket. With what seemed to be little effort, he hefted the supervillain into the air, and threw him clear across the lobby. He landed on top of the counter, right in front of Rick, and slid to the floor with a dazed expression. Rick leapt back, horrified at being so close to the lunatic clown. Joker looked up at him, his gaze a little vacant, and grinned.
"Tough crowd today!"
He leapt to his feet with surprising speed, reaching out to grab at Rick, but he was intercepted by Robin, who'd acquired a long steel pole from somewhere. One end of it whacked into the Joker's stomach, so hard it lifted him off his feet again. Robin used it to spin the Joker away and slam him against a wall. He sprang away, the pole shrinking down to a more manageable size somehow, and as the Joker staggered forward Batman vaulted over the counter, feet first. What looked like very solid boots hit the Joker straight in the face, and he collapsed, bleeding now from the mouth and a few cuts all over his face.
"What's the matter…Batsy…Did I touch a nerve?"
With that, he fell mostly silent, save for sporadic chuckles as Batman bound him in rope. The vigilante worked in silence, despite his partner's clearly curious gaze.
Rick heaved a sigh of relief, and turned to his colleagues. Some of the newer recruits were still staring around in shocked horror, but the more experienced among them were briskly putting the money back in their tills. Rick joined them. As his till clicked open, he realised that the clock had just hit noon.
He was definitely going to call that girl, he decided. He'd be sure of a second date with this story to tell.
A/N: For those not as familiar with Bat-canon, or if I simply didn't convey it very well, the new Robin is Tim Drake. For an explanation of the crowbar and the private joke, look up Jason Todd. While this is a one-shot, I do have a vague idea about a Batman story that this could eventually be a part of. Whether I'll ever write it remains to be seen, but I've had this scene in my head for ages, and today thought I'd write it, because why not?
This isn't set in any particular version of Batman, but for me the definitive Batman is the animates series of the early '90s, and I was definitely trying to emulate Mark Hamill's Joker in this. Hope it worked!